


Start of the Road

by flowersalesman



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, POV Second Person, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7284862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersalesman/pseuds/flowersalesman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(takes place after <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5221346">End of the Line</a>)</p><p>Sans died, and then he woke up.</p><p>He finds that things did not exactly go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [End of the Line](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5221346) by [CleverCatchphrase](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CleverCatchphrase/pseuds/CleverCatchphrase). 



> so i usually try to make an effort to have chapters be a least 1000 words but this is more of a really crappy intro
> 
> also reading "End of the Line" is necessary for comprehension. though you can try _not_ reading it and see how it turns out. tell me how it works for you.

Your eyes are closed. This is interesting for a multitude of reasons, the least of which being that you half-expected (half-hoped) that you’d _stay_ dead.

There’s also the fact that you were gone for barely a _second_ before you were here, and that second when you didn’t exist didn’t think didn’t feel was, arguably, the best second you’ve experienced in the past six months- hell, probably the best second since the resets began.

Maybe the human only decided to restart again the moment you died, the way the flower predicted. Maybe it’s just that time works differently when you’re dead, and it could have been years before you arrived back here at your room in Snowdin.

Your room in Snowdin.

Your eyes are closed, and usually you’d also feel your bed and your greasy blankets and your complete lack of dignity, but it is just now occurring to you that the most prominent thing you feel is the weight around your neck.

Your eyes are closed, you are standing not laying, there is cold tile under your feet and you reach a hand up and you feel your brother’s dusty scarf around your neck.

You open your eyes.

Birds are singing, flowers are blooming, and you see a dead kid laying in a pool of their own blood.

“What the heck did you _do?”_

There’s the flower.

You don’t move. You can’t bring yourself to care.

It pops in front of you, in front of the kid. It looks as angry as it sounds.

“Listen to me when I’m talking to you, _trashbag.”_

This is pointless. You have no idea why the weed isn’t afraid of you, considering how scared it was when you killed it, but you already spent plenty of months wishing you were dead and when you finally manage to off yourself and this plant you’re right back where you started and you refuse to live through that all again.

You raise your hand. You summon your blasters. You feel your eye glow.

You relish the look on the flower’s face (you’re glad the two of you had this chance to _ketchup)._

And then it’s dead, and then you turn the blasters on yourself, and you kinda feel like an old pro at this even if this is only the second time in your memory where you get to die on your own terms.

With the same grin you’ve always had, you fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i know this isn't very good lol


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the chapter where i try to emotions but ultimately fail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is also very short and i am very sorry for that but i just didn't know where a better place to end would be

Your eyes are closed and there is a weight around your neck.

Sorta makes you wish it was a _different_ sort of weight.

Ha.

“kid,” you whisper, mostly to yourself, “how are you _doing_ this? you’re _dead_ right now.”

“Yeah, well that’s _your_ fault, isn’t it?”

Your buddy has returned. You open your eyes and prepare yourself for some good ol’ fashioned murder.

Two’s just a coincidence, you know. Three makes a pattern.

The flower dies again in the midst of screams and pleas, and you die in silence.  
  


-_-_-  
  


You’re back in the hallway again. You guess it’s officially become a pattern.

The flower tried to talk to you again but you kill it the moment it appears.  
  


-_-_-  
  


Again.  
  


-_-_-  
  


Again.  
  


-_-_-  
  


And again.  
  


-_-_-  
  


The definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Well, that’s what you heard, anyway. It _could_ be a load of crap.

Either way, it’s just proof of what you already knew. You feel like you’ve gone off the deep end long ago.

-_-_-  
  


again and again and again  
  


-_-_-  
  


You stop waiting for the flower to come to you and start going to it.

You never stay long enough to see the look on Asgore’s face.  
  


-_-_-  
  


You keep dying. You wish it would stick.  
  


-_-_-  
  


Your eyes are closed. This time, you keep them closed.

You want some time to think for yourself. Hopefully, the flower got the hint the past many instances and will leave you alone, but you’re not above getting rid of it again.

See, the thing is- you still remember the reason you’re doing this.

The timeline has reseted to this spot countless times, and never before have you been able to keep so many in your head. Usually, you only have vague recollections of what transpired- not much more than anybody else, really, you just happen to know a little more than the average monster.

But you remember _every single time you died,_ even if you lost count along the way.

And you still remember why you’re doing this, still remember the months where you had to live with what the human—what you—have done.

So. Trying to force yourself to forget is out the window. And the faint hope that the human still had the option of resetting back to the beginning is gone.

You think they’re actually _dead._

You are stuck in a world without your brother _forever_ and there is no chance of ever getting him back. You can’t even off yourself for whatever reason, because something around here keeps on turning back the clock and it sure as hell isn’t the kid anymore.

You open your eyes and, yep, there they are. Dead as a doornail. Nice. You also see the flower peeking out from behind one of the pillars, probably thinking it’s being subtle or something.

Glaring at it makes it go away pretty quick.

And now there are footsteps behind you, a voice muttering, “Now, just _what_ on earth was that flower talking about…?”

The footsteps stop a ways behind you, and you’re probably blocking the sight of the human but you think he can still see the edges of the blood spread in front you.

Must be some sight. A tired skeleton layered with red. Kinda like those human horror movies you’ve never shown Papyrus.

You can hear the hesitation and sadness in his voice when he says, “Are they dead?”

“yeah,” you answer, and don’t elaborate.

A pause.

“And… you’re the one who killed them?”

“yep,” you say.

“Ah.” Asgore almost sounds as purposefully emotionless as you do, except, well. You’re not exactly doing it on purpose.

“And… where is their…?”

“i destroyed it.”

“Their soul?”

“yeah.”

You think the king feels very awkward. You’re still not facing him. You already told him once before about the kid’s crimes and even though it was easy to play a role before you’re just.

exhausted

you don’t want to do anything

it was hard enough the first time and you’re going to have to live through it again over and over and over and you won’t have anyone and you will never have anyone from this point on

“bye,” you say, and you step around the body, and Asgore tries to stop you but you walk all the way down the hallway past the weird teleporting box and when you’re out of sight you’re gone.

And you’re in your room in Snowdin.

You’re laying down you’re on your bed and you close your eyes.

You want to wake up and feel like everything is supposed to be.

You never want to wake up ever again.

So you go to sleep and hope for something.

**Author's Note:**

> my blog's at flowersalesman.tumblr.com if you wanna hit me up or something


End file.
